by R. W. Peake
“About fucking time they showed up. I guess they think they’re too good for us.”
Before any of the Centurions could say a word, there emanated from the entire 6th a low, guttural growl, the men too disciplined to speak out, still managing to convey their contempt for their comrades across the floor. That growl was more effective in shutting up the 28th than any threat from a Centurion or Optio and I smiled broadly, though my back was turned to the men so they could not see it. Fortunately, Caesar arrived at that moment and we were called to intente as he mounted the stage. Standing there for a moment, looking down at us, it suddenly made me feel old. How many times, I wondered, had I been standing here, looking up at Caesar? The only thing that had changed was my vantage point, since I had started out in the rear ranks. Now I was standing in front, all by myself. But it was always up at Caesar that I was looking, and the question that crossed my mind was, how much more of my life would be spent in this fashion? While I held little doubt that I would be standing here looking up at some general, what intrigued me was the question of whether or not it would ever be anyone other than Caesar. And after Caesar, if there was an after Caesar, would I ever find any general worthy of following again? These were the thoughts crowding through my mind as we waited on the great man to speak.
“Comrades,” he began in his customary style, “I have been told by my officers that some of you are discontented. Never let it be said that Caesar does not care for his men, nor listen to their complaints. That's why I am standing here. What do you have to say to me?”
To the men who had been complaining the loudest, that was like a bucket of ice water thrown directly into their face and I fought back the urge to laugh. They were being called out in front of their comrades, and being told to make their complaints public. That is a very daunting task, especially if you are a spineless, gutless cunnus to begin with.
For several moments, nothing was said, then Caesar spoke again, “Very well. I have given you the opportunity to speak, but now it seems that nobody has anything to say. Then if there is nothing more, we must return to our duties.”
He turned as if to go, causing a panicked buzz in the ranks of the 28th, men whispering fiercely to the man next to them, each of them demanding that the man they were whispering to speak up.
“Why do you refuse to leave this place?”
I do not know who said it, but immediately there was a roar of agreement from the men of the 28th. I turned to look at the ranks of my men, pleased to see that they were standing silently, looking over at the 28th in open contempt.
“We do not leave for a number of reasons,” Caesar replied, his hand raised for quiet, “not least of which is that I have never yielded the field to an enemy yet.”
Now, that was not exactly true; I vividly recall moving away from Gergovia and Dyrrhachium, but as disgruntled as the men may have been, none of them were crazy enough to bring that up to Caesar, so his statement went unchallenged.
“More importantly, however, is the fact that we can't leave this province in the hands of forces that are hostile to us. Rome relies on the grain grown here; without it, our people, your families and friends would starve. Until we can secure that supply of grain, leaving is not an option. And the only way to secure the supply is to defeat the Egyptians.”
They did not care for this, and in the muttering that followed, I heard the name Cleopatra several times.
Then another voice called out, “That’s all well and good, Caesar. But how are we supposed to defeat the enemy when we have no water?”
This challenge was met by another roar of agreement, continuing unabated for several moments as men added their own cries of despair to the hue. Caesar stood there, seemingly impervious to the things that were being called out, his face completely expressionless. After a moment, he held both hands up, and finally the men, now little more than a mob, settled down enough so that he could speak. I had looked back again at my men, and while they still had not made any sound, I could see that they were as interested to hear what Caesar had to say next about the water as the rabbits in the 28th.
“So your major concern is the lack of water?”
The men all cried out that this was so, then Caesar held his hands up again.
“If I provide the means to end this problem, so that water isn't a concern, are you willing to stay and fight without further complaint?’
Oh, he had them boxed now, and the quicker ones among them knew it immediately. There were whispered conferences as men argued among themselves. After a couple of moments, the buzzing subsided, followed by a period where nobody spoke. Finally, some men began to mumble their assent, but a blind man could tell that they were not happy about it.
But Caesar was not going to quibble about the quality of their agreement, and he spoke again, “I have your agreement then? Good. Then that is all.”
He turned to leave, but stopped at the howls of protest, and now I could definitely see that ghost of a smile playing at his mouth.
“How do we find water, Caesar? You said that you'd provide us with water!”
He affected a look of surprise as he said, “Why, you dig for it, of course.”
There was total silence, the men standing in stunned disbelief, and I must confess I was as shocked as the rest of the men. Dig for it? Could it really be that simple? A storm of protest burst forth as the men overcame their shock, their anger at perceiving that they had been tricked by Caesar very real, and very dangerous. However, Caesar was not cowed in the slightest; he merely stood there once again, letting the men spend their fury, waiting for the moment when everyone paused to catch their breath before howling anew.
When it came, he said in his command voice, “Centurions, you will form the men into working parties composed of two sections apiece. Each working party will dig a well, starting in the courtyard of every private residence in our sector. Only the guard Centuries will be relieved of this duty; however, they will stand watch all three night watches while the rest of the men work. No working party will be excused until they have dug a well that produces water. Once they do, they are relieved and can return to their quarters to rest. You have your orders, Centurions. Carry them out.”
He turned to leave, but someone shouted after him, “And if we don’t find any water?”
As he dismounted the stage, he called over his shoulder. “Then we will leave.”
~ ~ ~ ~
At first, the men were not enthused at all about their task, even my men. Walking from one working party to the next, I could hear their bitter complaints about what they viewed as a folly by Caesar.
“He’s just making us sweat as punishment for those cunni in the 28th calling a meeting,” a ranker from the Fifth of the Tenth said, standing waist-deep in a hole and tossing out another shovelful of sandy dirt, his comrades heartily agreeing with him.
This was more or less the tone of every working party as they dug, and these were men of the 6th. I could only imagine what Cartufenus was dealing with from his boys, I thought. I resigned myself to a whole night of complaining, but it was barely a third of a watch into work when I heard a great shout coming a block over from my spot at that moment, where I had sent some men of the 7th to work. Running down the street, I turned the corner to find Valens standing in the middle of the street, but covered in mud from the waist down. He was laughing with some of his men as I ran up, and he managed a salute despite his ear to ear smile.
“We struck water, Primus Pilus. Not more than six feet down.”
“And? Is it potable?” I demanded, my heart racing not just from the run over.
“Sweet as any that I've ever tasted.”
Despite myself, I let out a whoop of joy, clapping Valens and his men on the back.
“Well, you lucky bastards have the rest of the night off,” I said with a smile. “And nobody could deserve it more. Well done.”
Even as I hurried to report to Caesar, I heard first one, then another shout as men struck water. Arrivi
ng at headquarters, I learned that so far, barely more than a third of a watch into the endeavor, a total of eight wells had struck water. Cartufenus was there, looking immensely relieved; his men had found five so far, and for a moment, I cursed the idea that he and the 28th had beaten the 6th at anything. Deeper into the night, the number kept going up, until by morning more than 60 wells were dug, and it was only because Caesar determined that our water shortage was at an end that he called off the work. In a stroke, not only was our water shortage ended, but Caesar had nipped a mutiny in the bud before it could really get started. Finding water did not solve all of our problems; we were still surrounded and outnumbered, and there was still considerable tension between the 6th and the 28th, yet somehow knowing that you were not going to die of thirst made those problems seem surmountable.
It seemed that luck was once again returning to Caesar, since two days later, a courier managed to slip through the Egyptian defenses to inform Caesar that the 37th Legion, the Legion, which Cassius was charged with finding and sending to us, had arrived and was just a few miles up the coast. They were not without difficulty themselves however; as the courier explained that their own water situation was perilous, having run out the day that the courier left for Alexandria. Caesar decided to go see for himself, but since he could spare none of us from the defenses, took only a galley with its contingent of oarsmen and marines, leaving from the royal docks, commanding the rest of the fleet to follow once it was ready, which it did.
~ ~ ~ ~
I always found it interesting to see what happened when Caesar left others in command. None of his generals seemed willing to make a decision, despite the fact he was not the type of general to second-guess his subordinates. I think it was more a matter of not wanting to disappoint him than any fear they had of his disapproval. The only one who did not seem to worry about that was Antonius; indeed, he made decisions in Caesar’s name that caused Caesar untold problems, yet there was some bond between him and Caesar that made Caesar forgive Antonius some of his more outrageous actions, or at least so I thought at the time. Caesar had left very loose instructions when he left, saying only that we do nothing precipitate and maintain our normal routine. The 37th was at a spot called Chersonesus, and when Caesar arrived on the scene, he ordered the marines to go foraging for water, except they went too far inland and were captured by Egyptian cavalry. Under torture, they revealed that Caesar was present on one of the ships, and Ganymede was alerted to this fact. Ganymede threw together a scratch fleet of armed merchant vessels and a couple of thirty’s that had been in the Inner Harbor and escaped destruction, then headed after Caesar. Rather, the fleet did; Ganymede was not of the same stripe as Caesar, preferring to pull the strings from afar rather than to get personally involved in the action. Meanwhile, as was his habit, Caesar turned a precarious situation to his advantage. When Caesar arrived on the scene, the men of the 37th and the crews of the Rhodian ships that were carrying them had been without water for two days, meaning in that heat and climate they were in dire straits. Otherwise, everything went Caesar’s way once Ganymede’s fleet closed with his, temporarily succeeding in isolating one of the Rhodian thirty’s that was part of the relief force. However, Caesar turned it to his benefit, inflicting losses on the Egyptians that Ganymede could ill afford. Caesar returned with his fleet, along with the reinforcements, towing the Rhodian ship that was damaged in the fight. And just like that, we were reinforced, our numbers more than doubled.
~ ~ ~ ~
Because of the limited space inside our position, Caesar kept the 37th onboard ship, spreading them around so that every ship of the fleet had at least a Century aboard. Along with what we had brought with us, the ships of the reinforcing fleet, and those that Caesar had captured in his action against Ganymede, our flotilla now consisted of 34 craft of varying size. To protect the more valuable warships, Caesar circled them with the transports, acting as a screen in the event that the Egyptians tried to use their fire boats again. However, Ganymede was not so easily undone. Despite Caesar’s success in destroying the entire fleet residing in the harbor at Alexandria, he had not ended the Egyptian maritime threat. There were Egyptian naval vessels patrolling up and down the Nile, and along the coast, while there were a number of larger vessels, quinqueremes most of them, that were in dry-dock because of the expense of upkeep. Now Ganymede brought them out of storage, summoning the patrol vessels to return to Alexandria at the same time, as the shops around the city were immediately set to work refitting the ships. The biggest deficiency the enemy faced was in having enough oars to power so many vessels; therefore, every scrap of wood was ransacked from the public buildings that had the potential of being turned into oars. Working all day and through the night, day after day and night after night, all we could do was watch and wait for the inevitable. One morning, one of the sentries on the roof sounded the alarm, and I went to see what had alerted him. I was dismayed to see no less than five quinqueremes, 22 quadriremes, and four biremes rowing around the Inner Harbor. While we knew that they were working on rebuilding their fleet, until that moment we had no idea of the size, and it was massive. Word of the fleet leapt through the army, meaning that soon every man not on duty was standing on a roof, watching the Egyptians testing the vessels. Our future was passing before us as we watched; if that massive flotilla defeated ours, we were finished, and we all knew it. Even as grim as the prospect was, that did not stop the men from wagering on the outcome, but I was happy to see that most men were betting on us to win.
~ ~ ~ ~
The expected battle played out in full view, with our fleet leaving the Great Harbor, then turning west, heading towards the entrance to the Inner Harbor. Like the entrance to the Great Harbor, there is a line of shoals making entrance to the Inner Harbor treacherous, so the Romans formed up, facing the entrance, while in turn the Egyptians formed up in the Inner Harbor, facing them. One consequence of the coming battle was that both sides that were still in the city temporarily forgot their own fight, climbing to the roofs in their respective sectors to watch. It was almost like a festival atmosphere; all that was missing were the vendors selling meat pies and wine, and the whores plying their trade. Nevertheless, you could cut the tension in the air with a dagger and I found myself tapping my vitus against my thigh, while other men chattered incessantly to hide their nervousness, or said nothing at all, their entire attention on the scene in the harbor below them. For the better part of a third of a watch, both fleets remained motionless, and the men began getting restless. Of course, the betting was brisk as they wagered on when the attack would come and who would start it. I was standing with Felix, Clemens, and Diocles, waiting for something to happen and I briefly thought about sending the men down, except what was about to happen was too important and they had a right to know their fate, so I dismissed the idea. Instead, we stood waiting, when finally something happened, with four ships from our fleet suddenly detaching themselves to begin rowing swiftly towards the entrance of the Inner Harbor.
“There they go,” someone shouted.
I turned from my conversation with Clemens to watch the first four Roman ships shooting through the gap in single file before quickly maneuvering into a line abreast. Almost as quickly, four Egyptian ships detached themselves from their own formation, then began rowing directly towards our ships, with our vessels turning so their bows were facing the enemy even as they picked up speed. Both sides were picking up momentum and, despite being too far away to hear it, we could tell when the ships struck each other head-on that the impact was tremendous. It reminded me of watching the rams butt each other when I was a child in Hispania, and it seemed to have about as much effect on the ships as it had on the rams back home. Immediately after the initial impact, all the ships reversed their oars, pulling back from their individual adversaries as they maneuvered around each other, looking for another opening. While I am no expert in naval warfare, it was clear to see that whoever it was handling our four ships was highly skilled, m
oving their vessels to face another attack, this time by four different ships that apparently hoped to catch them engaged with their original adversaries. The Egyptians were unsuccessful, with our ships again meeting this new threat head-on.
“What are they trying to do?” Clemens asked, and we all looked in surprise when Diocles spoke up.
“Their primary goal is to catch our ships broadside and use their ram to hole the vessel.”
“I know that,” Clemens said impatiently. “But it doesn’t look like that’s what they’re doing.”
“If they can’t score a hit broadside, then they'll try to shear off the other ship’s oars by running alongside and at the last moment shipping their own oars. It appears that our commanders are too skilled for them to get caught broadside, so I think the Egyptians are trying to kill their mobility.”
This made what we were watching make sense to us, and I reminded myself to ask Diocles how he knew about naval warfare. Now that our first four were totally engaged, Caesar gave the command to the rest of the fleet, and they rowed quickly through the entrance into the Inner Harbor, using the melee as a screen to keep the rest of the Egyptian fleet from attacking them before they could get into the standard battle formation. Once the rest of our fleet entered the harbor, it appeared as if the surface of the water was completely packed with ships.